"What the fuck," I couldn't help from saying it out loud. ''Are you being figurative or...''

The girl beside me widened her eyes as she dropped her bottom lip and shook her head. I imagined she was thinking something along the lines of 'oh wow what an idiot.' I looked past her to her posse for a moment to see that all of them were retaining the same somber expressions and stances.

''Okay...'' I changed my tone, ''the four of you are dead...right.'' My gaze dithered between looking at Emma and at the other teens standing behind her.

''Just prove it to him, Em, so we can move forward with this,'' one of the young boys rolled his eyes.

Their leader gave an exasperated sigh as she stood, looking down at me, ''Where's your razor?'' she demanded.

''Um, what?''

She took a heavy step toward me, grabbing my wrist before I could even think to react. She pulled on it harshly until my forearm was vertical directly in front of my face, ''Where the fuck is your razor?'' she repeated in an angry voice.

I looked from the cuts and scars on my arm and back to her, ''It's in the den,'' I almost whispered.

She threw my arm back down and stormed out of the bedroom; her posse following quickly behind. I sat in my bed watching after them until they were all out of sight. Then I glanced around the room. If this wasn't a dream... I put my hands onto the blankets beside me and rubbed them once more. Not a dream. OK then...if this wasn't in my head...if I hadn't finally lost it, what the hell had I gotten myself into?

''Hey! Get your ass in here!'' Emma called from the other room.

I took a deep breath and stood. How pathetic was I being a grown man and letting some teenage girl boss me around? But then again...if Freddy had killed her and his last murders had been three decades ago, then I guess she was actually older than me. I sauntered into the room at the other end of the hallway. Emma had located the box-cutter that I had left on the coffee table and was standing in front of the TV waiting for me. The guy with the bat was leaning against the back of the front door of my apartment, scowling and not appearing to be focused on anything while the two others had made themselves comfortable on my couch with eyes on their leader.

Emma slid the utility blade in her hand open two notches. I listened to the familiar clicking sound of the tool settling into place. She gripped the handle and carefully reached with it over to her opposite arm, resting the blade against her skin.

''Wait, wait just a second,'' I spoke, as what little sense I had caught up with what she was doing. One of the boys on the couch twisted his neck to laugh at me while the other kept his eyes on Emma, a wicked grin stretching across his face. Trench coat guy at the door stayed the same. ''Don't-'' I started again but I should have known that any protest to any of this group's members would be futile.

Emma, in one quick, fell swoop, dug the blade deeply into her inner wrist and dragged it upward through the entire length of her forearm, ripping her flesh apart. Blood gushed out in a few different spots as the veins and arteries were torn before easing to slight, sparatic spurts of crimson. The thick red liquid dripped across the white, undamaged parts of her skin like rivers. These streams met at her elbow and fell to the floor beneath where she stood. My vision followed the drips all the way to the ground, watching them stain the once beige carpet an almost sickening yet beautiful maroon color. For a moment, I forgot where it was coming from and what was going on. All I could think about was how much there was...how it had to mean death...and how that thought comforted me.

However, the feet standing in the growing puddle of blood moved then, jarring me from my daydream. My head shot back up, eyes on Emma. The girl stood there, unwavering. Her body was strong, but as I looked into her green eyes, I saw a great sorrow. I wanted to speak. To comfort her. To cry for help so that I could save her from dying. I wanted to do so much! But I was too weak... So instead, I just stared.

''Look,'' her voice was soft...compassionate then.

Her eyes went from me down to her arm. Mine did the same, once again in awe of the grave wound. She twisted her arm abruptly and let it fall back into place. The gash, the cleanly cut flesh, the blood, the beautiful horror...it was gone! Just like that... My jaw dropped and I gawked at the scene as the girl made a fist once, then twice, and then allowed her arm to come to rest on her hip as her expression hardened once more and a teasing smirk reached her face.

I stepped further into the room, eyeing the carpet around her. It was like nothing had happened. ''Um...yeah, Okay...'' I scratched my head, focusing on Emma and the others once more. ''I'm convinced.''

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the now confirmed ghost in the trench coat at the door smile. I turned my attention to him and he likewise turned his head in my direction. ''What's your name?''

''Damian,'' he replied gruffly. ''And that's Chris and Todd,'' he added, gesturing toward my couch with his chin.

''Hi..'' I turned back awkwardly to the kids? ghosts? whatever... sitting behind me. They both waved and chuckled.

''So this is what we need you to do,'' I spun around at the sound of Emma's voice. She had thrown the razor back on the table and crossed her arms under her chest. ''We-''

''Wait, hold on!'' I squeaked. ''I never agreed to anything here!

Damian lifted himself from the door and strolled between Emma and me, taking a position facing me. Our noses were almost touching. ''You want to die, don't you?'' he asked.

''Well, yeah, but-''

''You gonna do it yourself?'' he pressed, not even waiting for my full answer to his first question.

''I don't-'' I started, then realized that I wasn't talking to just anyone... These guys were already dead. They could teach me so many things, couldn't they? All these things I wondered about existence after death.

''Would there even be a point?'' I countered his interrogation with my own inquiry.

I didn't think it was possible, but he got closer to me, furrowing his brow and steeling his eyes into mine. ''I don't know. You tell me. You're the one with such a shitty life.''

The statements came out with such cruel contempt that I couldn't help but shiver. As soon as I felt it, I tried not to let it show. However, I failed...as was proven with the cold toothy grin he gave me before stepping back to the side and letting Emma take the lead again.

''The short answer, Mark,'' she stressed my name as her eyes trailed after her friend and then resituated upon me. ''Is that death and what happens after is unique to everyone. We can't judge for you if you should force your own end or not.''

After Damian's chilling words, hers sounded warm and caring. However, after the initial shock of him wore off, I understood that she was only speaking matter-of-factly. I barely caught what she said and found it difficult to focus. My mind and my vision, kept returning to Damian. He had resumed his normal sentry-like pose a couple of yards from the rest of us. I couldn't help but to feel a hidden story behind the things he had said to me...

You're the one with such a shitty life. He had made certain to emphasize 'shitty' like he was in firm disbelief that my life was so bad that I should want or need to end it. My first thoughts to this were defensive.

Growing up, not as a teenager even, but a young child that could barely walk or talk, living with the constant fear, each and every day, that maybe it was finally the day your guardian would throw you hard enough you'd die... Always wondering if they would burn, hit, cut, or choke you that day...or even conduct some new form of torture they hadn't done before just so they could get a bit of entertainment... Living with the constant pang of hunger in your stomach or the cold of winter tearing daily through the holes of your raggedy clothes... All because any money they acquired was used for alcohol or cigarettes...

''Mark? Are you listening?'' Emma tore into my thoughts once more.

''Yeah, sorry...'' I muttered. And I had been somewhat although I wasn't really understanding everything she was saying.

She sighed and backtracked. It was apparently pretty obvious that my mind was elsewhere. ''Somebody still alive has to make a doorway for Freddy to get back into the dream realm because the dead don't dream. His daughter was the last child from Springwood so she was his last connection to the dreams. Bringing him into the real world at that point took him completely out of the dream one at last.''

''So when she killed him in the real world, it was like he died for the first time all over,'' I finished, ''Except he was a demon this time not human.''

''Yeah,'' Emma agreed. I could tell she was trying to figure out where my mind had been. ''So he went straight to Hell.''

''So what? When you kill a demon, it loses its powers?'' I asked, trying not to let my mind wander this time.

''No...he still has his powers...but he's stuck in Hell. He hasn't been able to re-establish a connection with the human world...to the dreamscape,'' she answered.

''As far as demons go,'' Damian spoke up. His smirk had faded and I felt that he only said anything now in order to allow my thoughts to be both intent on him and the matter at hand. ''Freddy Krueger is extremely young. He hasn't gotten full control of his powers.''

''You're kidding,'' I interrupted which seemed to annoy the ghost, but I didn't care. ''Seems to me he's been very powerful.''

''That was in the past,'' Emma was talking again. A brief moment of realization brushing her face as she looked from her partner and to me. ''The dream demons that originally allowed him his place amongst their kind were still channeling their own strengths through him. Now that he has died and been removed from their grace, he is on his own.''

''I see...'' I murmured. ''So you want me to give him a connection to our dream realm again? So...so that you can make him suffer?'' I used my fingers to make air quotes.

Both she and Damian nodded. I looked over to Chris and Todd who had stayed in their seats this entire time. Their smiles were gone. They gave me short nods as well.

''Uh ok, but,'' I mused, ''Isn't he already in Hell? The job of torturing him is taken care of, then, isn't it?''

Damian scoffed, the bat reappearing in his hands as he resumed his position at the door, idly swinging the weapon from side to side in front of him. Emma dropped her arms from their curl underneath her breasts and placed them on either hip. She thrust her right hip to the side and shook her head as if my conclusion had been idiotic. ''Hell is just the name of the realm where demons live,'' she said.

''So...evil people don't get sent to Hell for punishment when they die?'' I asked, suddenly very interested. Emma and Damian exchanged glances. I threw up an open palm and raised an eyebrow. I didn't understand the hesitation. They obviously knew the answer. Why didn't they just say it?

''Just think of demons more like...just spirits that live there like humans live here,'' Damian smiled. ''Krueger was turned into a demon when his human life ended so now that's his home.''

I steadied my sights on him, narrowing my eyes and sighing. I guess that was as good of a response as I was going to get and I was suddenly scared with the prospect of dying again. ''I don't know...'' I trailed, scratching my head again. ''Your vague answers about things... How can I trust everything you say? How do I know I won't get sent to Hell and tortured by the demons then?''

''By the way you make it seem,'' Damian tilted his head, stilling the bat in front of him before throwing it to rest over his shoulder. ''You already have plenty of demons fucking with you here on Earth.''